Kismet
by Daroga's Rainy Daae
Summary: Jack agrees to have his fortune told to pay an old street woman of Tortuga, but he ends up finding out much more than he had planned, being warned that he would have to make a choice in the near future; deciding the lives of all those he cares for...
1. Chapter One

The worst smell of blood and deteriorating bodies was like a slap in the face when Jack  
Sparrow stepped onto the dock at Port Royal from aboard the Black Pearl. It was so  
silent, his footsteps echoed; he could hear his heart beating, his breath coming out in  
controlled steadiness. With every heavy step he took, he fell closer towards insanity.  
  
  
You chose, Jack... You chose, you did...  
  
  
Hundreds upon hundreds of slaughtered people. Blood everywhere. People's heads  
detached from their bodies, limbs strewn about; piles of them; all mutilated. Some, he  
recognized; Governor Swann, Commodore Norrington, Will! William Turner, young,  
strong, brave Will. Tortured, killed, finally defeated. That poor boy, and his lovely new  
wife...  
  
  
Look what you've done...  
  
  
Jack kept an expressionless face and continued his walk, stepping carefully over the  
bodies and still managing to get his boots soaked with blood. And those maggots; where  
did they come from as the flies were all gone? Maggots covered every eyeball, crawled in  
every ear. They had died - the people - had died not long ago. Their corpses were fresh  
meat for all those maggots... All those horrifying insects, crawling, wriggling their tiny  
bodies, eating, living... The only life on the whole island...  
  
  
He stumbled as a wave of sickness passed over him for a moment, but he quickly gained  
his composure once again, and continued on. He had to keep everything down, otherwise  
he would go mad. Go mad and shriek like a bloody banshee, tear his own eyes out, cry  
until his body dehydrated, and die; why not die?  
  
  
Because you did this...  
  
  
He had to go back to the Black Pearl. He couldn't face this any longer. Who he had  
come to find was no longer there, that was apparent. The enemy had escaped, yet again,  
but Jack had survived. Jack, his ship and it's crew; all at these people's expense.  
  
  
"Hello, there, Jack," a voice said behind him. Jack spun around and standing where he  
hadn't been a moment before, was a man. There was silence; the smell was terrible,  
almost made the pirate captain pass out on the spot. And the maggots, those slithering  
beasts, the bodies, the blood, the limbs, the heads, the eyes...  
  
  
"Lost for words, I see?" the man whispered, thoughtfully. He smiled his blackened teeth.   
Jack didn't budge, or make any sign that he had heard a word the acquaintance had said.   
He just stared off, through the man, through the bodies, the maggots, his ship, the ocean...  
into his past he longed to forget.  
  
  
"You poor boy," the man continued, stepping silently over a dead woman and her child; a  
small baby. Both were white with death. Jack couldn't take his eyes from them. "All  
these people dead because you couldn't conquer your worst fear. Sorry, Jack; here I am."  
  
  
*  
  
  
"Yes," the old psychic said, nodding many times, her eyes shut and wrinkled face down  
in concentration. "It is to be your future, god bless your unfortunate soul. You will have  
to make a choice, Jack Sparrow; you will have two paths to choose from, and that is the  
one you will choose. There is no way to change it, for you will not know the right path  
until it is too late."  
  
  
There was silence in the room, in which Jack sat looking a bit stunned by the psychic's  
performance. Not only had she mentioned Port Royal, a place most Tortuga street  
women had never heard of in their entire lives, but she had also talked of Will, and  
Elizabeth, which was, indeed, extraordinary.  
  
  
"Aye, well," Jack finally said after much thought, lowering his boots from the table he  
was comfortably propped up at and setting two of the four chair legs he had been  
balancing on, down on the floor, "That is a very interesting trick you did just there, but I  
don't think I'll be letting anyone kill my mates off anytime soon."  
  
  
"Jack Sparrow; you are kind at heart, but have no sense of impending danger," the old  
lady replied, slowly.  
  
  
"And that's why I'm a pirate," Jack said, grinning innocently. "Good day to you,  
madam." He stood and left the depressing, deserted room out onto the streets in the slum  
of an island, Tortuga. The old woman said no more.  
  
  
The captain, while in the area for a few days, had found this lady wandering desperately  
in search of enough money to feed herself. She had offered him a reading of the future  
for one shilling. Jack, giving her four, had hoped for a more pleasant experience. Not  
only had he been bothered by this woman's "premonition," but angry that she had  
suggested he would do such a thing in the first place.  
  
  
"Bloody raving dowager," Jack muttered under his breath as he strode off in the night  
towards his ship once the lady was out of earshot. "I fear nothing."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: How was it? Good? Bad? Please tell me! Thank you! And I will continue! :D 


	2. Chapter Two

The moment Jack boarded the Black Pearl, he knew something wasn't quite right. The  
feel was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Once he climbed onto the deck,  
he realized what it was; the birds were silent, the wind wasn't blowing, and his crew was  
nowhere to be seen.  
  
  
"Captain!"  
  
  
Jack started at the sight of Anamaria, who normally seemed right at home at the docks of  
Tortuga, but was now racing towards him as fast as she could from below deck, confusion  
showing on her face, distinctly. Worry.  
  
  
"What's wrong?" Jack inquired.  
  
  
"While you were gone, I found - well - you better come look at this." Anamaria gritted  
her teeth and stared off as if trying to distract herself, motioning for Jack to follow her as  
she stepped backwards towards the trap door.  
  
  
"Where is everyone?" Jack asked, harshly.  
  
  
"They're not back yet, but that doesn't matter right now; come, quickly!" The lady pirate  
seemed extremely agitated as she grabbed a hold of Jack's arm; something she was  
normally not accustomed to doing; and pulled him behind her. The captain noted that her  
grip was terribly tight.  
  
  
Jack followed Anamaria, running at her heels to keep up, as if what she wanted to show  
him would disappear at any moment. Weaving down the passageway and past a few  
rooms, she came to an abrupt halt in front of a far wall. Jack merely stared at it for a few  
minutes. Both pirates just stood in silence, Anamaria shaking slightly.  
  
  
On the wall in the lowest level of the ship, was a message, clearly written in artery blood.   
The sour, bitter smell was familiar enough, the color was lurid and there were blotches of  
something thick among some of the dripping letters. It read: Sail East and find me. Sail  
West and save a comrade. Kindest regards; Jack Sparrow.  
  
  
"I just came back and found it here," Anamaria whispered docilely. "What does it mean?   
He signed your name."  
  
  
Jack continued to observe the writing with lowered eyes, making no indication that he  
had heard a word she had said. He felt a thin hand on his shoulder, icy fingers muss  
through his hair, gray fingernails sharply cut, strong fingers that could crush bones, saw  
the glint of a steely brown eye reflecting the most violent of images imaginable, heard a  
voice in his ear; You cannot escape death...  
  
  
"It's his name," Jack whispered back.  
  
  
Suddenly, something relatively the size of a dog fell from the ceiling right at Jack's feet;  
unnoticed up until then. He leapt back in alarm and gawked at the awful sight; what was  
left of a young girl, age unintelligible as her features were so gruesomely distorted. The  
child was covered in blood, even her hair was matted thickly with it. Her neck was bent  
so that even though her body lay crumpled on it's stomach, her eyes stared up blankly at  
the captain, seeming to glow among all the red smeared on her mutilated face. Oh, the  
child must have been screaming, what a gaping mouth, what a terrified expression...  
  
  
"Fetch the crew," Jack ordered weakly, almost monotone. He couldn't pry his eyes from  
the dead girls'.  
  
  
"Aye," Anamaria breathed, unmoving.  
  
  
"Don't worry about me; go!" he said, gaining back most of his captain superiority. The  
lady nodded once and hastened up the stairs two at a time.  
  
  
When he was finally alone, Jack made it to the nearest chair and set himself rigidly on it,  
clenching and unclenching his fists, remembering the man; thin, yet strong, evil, twisted,  
corrupt; death followed him everywhere, his own body stank of the blood he always  
shed... Coldness, darkness, emptiness, it was all just being in his presence, you felt it  
pulsing from him, one look and you're frozen to your spot, all courage gone, all dignity  
forgotten, you're lost in his company, you're trapped, suffocating... Rough, icy hands...   
Jack felt them now, it was almost real, so real, he could smell the rancid breath, hear the  
haunting words; die, escape, never, suffer...  
  
  
"Which is the right path to take?" Jack asked nobody, hollowly repeating the old psychics  
words. "I won't know until it is too late." He sat stock still, staring, thinking, and finally,  
made his decision. "We go East," he snarled to himself, standing and hurrying to the  
ship's deck, where he waited for his crew to come.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: You like? Hmmm...? Please review! Thank you! :D 


	3. Chapter Three

"East!?" Anamaria shouted in alarm, saw the look on Jack's face, shifted her eyes about  
and repeated in a hoarse whisper; "East?"  
  
  
"Aye, it's what is right," Jack replied, lowly, eyeing the crew that had been recently  
herded back onto the ship.  
  
  
"What about-" Anamaria started, hesitating momentarily, "-the comrade?"  
  
  
"It's a trick," Jack said simply. "That fiend has no idea who my comrades are. He was  
dead long before I made any."  
  
  
"What are you talking about?" Anamaria snapped. "A dead man can't do - well - what  
whoever it was... did!"  
  
  
"Listen," Jack said under his breath, "I don't know how else to explain it; the man is  
dead, yet he walks still."  
  
  
"Like the curse with Barbossa and the old crew?" Anamaria asked.  
  
  
"No, much unlike it," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's too complicated - too long of a  
story. I'll tell you in time, but right now you have to trust me. We must sail East because  
it's the right choice. I happened upon a source that has clearly informed me that although  
it may seem wrong... it's not. I assure you."  
  
  
"I trust you," Anamaria replied, nodding. "Just do what you have to do to make things  
right again."  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
  
..........Twenty-nine years, four months and six days earlier..........  
  
  
  
"Come out of there, lad."  
  
  
Silence. The warm night wind blew the hair around a hard, stony face. Unmoving;  
emotionless. The only answer the man received from the eleven-year-old boy was rapid,  
terrified breathing.  
  
  
"I'll drag you out by your eyelashes, now come out."  
  
  
The boy took a step towards the man, his father, even though the foot he stepped on was  
badly sprained, and sent needles up his leg with the pressure he set on it. He was dizzy  
from hyperventilating, shaking from head to toe, covered in sticky blood and unable to  
tell the difference between his and... the lady's...  
  
  
With his face set still stony, the man grabbed the boy by the back of the neck, roughly  
tossing him onto the deck of the ship like he weighed nothing at all, where he hit the main  
mast, fell and lay gasping, hands over his face, on his back. The mast swayed violently  
and a crack at it's base spread and opened wider.  
  
  
The child's head was pounding with the violent images of the recent murder he had  
witnessed. His mother - she had been sliced clean in half by his father's blade; he had  
been so close that he had been absolutely covered in the gore.  
  
  
"Don't you have anything to say?" the father asked, striding up to his son and pinning  
him to the floor with a strong heel to the chest. "Why don't you scream? Why don't you  
cry? You know I grow mad when I do not hear a child's screams and sobs at least twice a  
night... You know that, boy. If you scream now, I'll not kill you."  
  
  
The boy, instead, gasped for air, flailing about and trying his hardest not to give, no, this  
time, tonight, he would not give. This was for his mother, no screaming this time, no  
crying; he'd die before he gave his father that satisfaction.  
  
  
The solid man looked upon his boy in disgust, grabbing him up by the collar and getting  
no more reaction than a turned head and stiff fists at both sides. The boy was not going to  
fight anymore, not physically, but in his mind he strained his hardest to will himself, to  
keep from letting all his anger, pain, horror out, to keep from going insane, insane like his  
perverted, deranged father who enjoyed hearing children suffer, murder women slowly, or  
quickly in the most gruesome ways, break grown men, break them down to nothing...   
  
  
And there dangled the small boy, making not a sound, making not a move, but biting his  
lip to keep from wailing, unable to stare into those stone, amber eyes. He knew if he  
caught a glimpse of them, he would surely howl his lungs bloody, and that would make  
Him happy, so happy...  
  
  
"You cannot hold out much longer," the father murmured in the boy's ear, sending chills  
up his spine. "I know it." The man pitched his son at the side of the ship, careful not to  
throw him overboard and end his suffering too early.  
  
  
The boy pried his eyes open at a loud groaning of strained wood, a sound, even though  
loud, his father could not hear; he was too far gone in the lust of all the excitement. The  
blood was on his hands, and now he was manic with it, licking his dripping fingers  
subconsciously as the main mast swayed dangerous back and forth...  
  
  
"You open your eyes, lad," the man remarked. "You are a brave boy... Strong boy...   
Dead boy..."  
  
  
The child, paralyzed against the side of the ship, breathing so hard that his chest hurt with  
every gasp, stared at the broken mast, swaying, swinging... For an instant, the boy's eyes  
met his father's, and he stopped breathing entirely. His jaw dropped in his terror, barely  
restraining any outburst with what little remained of his will power.  
  
  
"You stare me in the eye, now," the man remarked again, nodding. "And I see your fear.   
Goodbye, Jack." The father withdrew his dirty sword from it's sheath, preparing to slice  
the boy thinly across his whole body until he eventually died; like a million long paper  
cuts... But he never got the chance.  
  
  
The time came for the mast to finally break free of any constraint it was being held by,  
and gave a warning crack that pierced the dry, silent night. Only then did the man realize  
this, but far too late, as the long, wooden pole fell swiftly, closer and closer to it's target,  
dead straight on to the father.  
  
  
The man, strong and stone as he was, stood still, even as the mast crashed upon him with  
a most sickening crunch. It lay there, propped up atop his head, and for a wild moment,  
the boy wondered if it even had any effect on him. After what seemed an eternity, the  
man's eyes rolled up into his head, and his skull split apart as he collapsed. The mast fell  
with him, and smashed into the ship railing, breaking in two. One half fell into the water,  
while the other hit the deck an inch in front of the small boy.  
  
  
"Goodbye, Jack," the boy mouthed back. And then he blacked out. When he woke up  
four hours later, he couldn't remember a second of what had happened the night before,  
but found it strange that sometime during the night, the main mast had fallen and he  
hadn't woken up. The stony man's body, who's memory was locked in the back of the  
boy's traumatized mind, had disappeared from the ship, unbeknownst to the child. The  
only thing he remembered, was that his name was Jack Sparrow. And the empty ship he  
was on, was his own.  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, and I especially love how you shared  
your reactions! You really motivated me to write another chapter; thanks again! Hope  
you like this one. :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D 


	4. Chapter Four

"Pirate ship ahead, Captain!"  
  
  
Jack charged up the laddera from his cabin below deck and slammed the trapdoor shut   
behind him. Rushing to the bow, he squinted into the distant sunset to catch a glimpse of the  
pirate ship ahead of him.  
  
  
"What's it called?" Jack yelled up to the lookout with his spyglass.  
  
  
"The Quietus, sir, we're gaining on her!"  
  
  
"No doubt! The Black Pearl is the fastest ship in the Caribbean!" Jack retorted. Then he  
muttered himself; "Even if the Quietus is the one to be carrying the most deaths. And I intend  
to stop it before it reaches Port Royal."  
  
  
The sun was merely a fiery line across the horizon now, yet the sky was bright purple.   
Although the Quietus was dark and easily losable in the waters which did not reflect the sun's   
light, the Pearl was catching up to it, and was soon right at it's stern.  
  
  
Jack felt Anamaria's presence as she approached him from behind.  
  
  
"Nearly thirty years it's been since I've come in contact with the man who's captaining this ship  
ahead," he said to her, nodding towards it and stepping backwards to the wheel, which he gave  
a few nudges to the left. He continued while Anamaria said nothing. "I'll be going it alone, this   
time. Only one man. He was always one man, you know; wasn't one to have a crew."  
  
  
"Are you sure it's wise, Jack? Sounds a little balmy to me, challenging a man who followed   
our ship, intruded on it without our knowing and killed a child to make his point. He may be  
only one man, but he will try to hurt you," she said. She then got a strange look on her face,   
unreadable to Jack, as she put her hand on his shoulder and said in barely more than a   
whisper; "Although you believe yourself to be unbeatable, your benevolence and trust may blind-"  
  
  
"I know how to deal with this man," Jack interrupted before Anamaria could say any more.   
"Don't worry about me, love; I do not trust him or think him humane in any way. I will show   
no mercy or give clemency, savvy?"  
  
  
"Aye," she answered. "I hope you know what you're doing."  
  
  
"That I do!" Jack said, grinning. "I'm going to give this one a flogging he'll never forget!"  
  
  
"How are you going to get across the water to the ship?" Anamaria asked him.  
  
  
"You see how the flying touches the Quietus's stern?" Jack said, his grin widening.  
  
  
"You're going to climb across!" Anamaria said, no less than amused. "This, I have to see.   
We'll be pulling you out of the water a few times for sure."  
  
  
"Have faith in me, love!" Jack replied, hopping up to the bow once again. "You just steer   
this ship so I can climb back across once I'm finished with the bantling!"  
  
  
Anamaria watched as Jack took one step out on the bowsprit. He made it as far as the jib  
before he began to teeter a bit.  
  
  
"Bloody balance! Knew I shouldn't have had all that rum earlier!" Jack gave Anamaria a   
silly smirk before his feet slipped on the jib and he had to grab onto it with only his hands   
while his body dangled above the water. With little effort, he hoisted himself back up and   
shimmied the rest of the way to the flying, and sprang onto the deck of the other ship.  
  
  
He turned about and opened his arms, shouting back to Anamaria; "All a matter of luck, love!   
Here I go!" And he turned his back on her, striding off down the deck. As he neared the   
mizzenmast, he realized that the ship was dark; not a candle lit in any part of it, save for what  
rooms were below deck, which he couldn't cipher the brightness of. His only source of light  
was the shining candles from the Black Pearl behind him. Subconsciously, his steps grew   
silent as the ship around him was deathly quiet. The only sound he heard were the muted   
voices of his crew.  
  
  
The Quietus wasn't a bad ship, at all; very large and seemingly unused. This struck Jack as   
extremely curious, since he was thinking of the same person who had lived on the Black Pearl  
for forty years before the fortunate accident which had brought upon his sudden "demise."   
Jack had figured that the ship would have been well-worn by then.  
  
  
Brushing aside this thought, he passed the main mast and caught the first sight of human life.   
At the helm was a man, slouched over the wheel of the ship. Jack stopped dead in his tracks,  
forgetting he was supposed to be approaching him for a few seconds as he reflected on the   
powerful deadliness of this individual. The only thing that made him start walking again was   
his own confident knowledge that he, too, was now a powerful and deadly man, no longer a   
boy bound by child weakness, as he was before.   
  
  
If his addition was correct, Jack realized that his father was supposed to be sixty-nine years of  
age. He could not tell anything of the man before him, as all he could see was a silhouette   
against the darkness which had quickly come. His father seemed not to notice him as he   
stepped up to him from behind.  
  
  
"Jack Sparrow," Jack the younger addressed the man at the wheel, who did not turn around.  
"I have come to challenge and otherwise kill you until you're so severed that you won't   
come back next time, savvy?" When the man did nothing, Jack not only lost some of his   
confidence, but also started to suspect his father had constructed some sort of wicked plot   
which would result in his death without Jack senior having to lay one finger on him.  
  
  
"Answer me, ye bloody villain!" Jack growled, lashing forward and throwing the man at the   
wheel to the ground. He withdrew his sword from it's scabbard and was just about to slice   
the rogue's head off, when he caught sight of the man's face in a beam of moonlight.  
  
  
"Blimey, Will!" Jack shouted in horror, letting his sword clatter to the ground as he dropped  
beside the young man to see if he was still alive. To Jack's extreme relief, he was still   
breathing, but unconscious.  
  
  
Will had been gagged and obviously knocked over the head roughly, as there was blood   
matted in his hair and there were long streams of it dried down his forehead and in his eyes.  
  
  
"I'll get you back to me ship; don't worry, Will, I'm not going to let you die on me now,"   
Jack growled.  
  
  
He gently hoisted his friend into his arms and, smoothly as he could, carried him back to the   
flying of the Pearl, which Anamaria had obediently and skillfully kept to the stern of the Quietus.   
Her jaw dropped as she looked upon the sight, but quickly got over it, her concentration on   
keeping the Pearl steady against the ship in front of it.  
  
  
"How will you get him across by walking over!?" Anamaria shouted to Jack, fiercely.  
  
  
"I can do this," Jack replied just as fiercely, stepping up onto the flying with confidence. "It's   
easier with balancing weight," he remarked, taking another step. "Like a tightrope walker   
with a cane." He took a few more steps and reached the middle of the jib before he started   
to have some trouble. He gave Anamaria a little grin as if to say "nothing to it."   
  
  
Anamaria knew better, noticing the sweat that ran down his forehead; most likely from the   
combination of stress and the difficulty of carrying a full-grown man across a curved, moving   
surface of little more than seven inches in width. Jack Sparrow was not al-mighty, although   
he seemed to give off that impression and never let anyone forget it. This was one of the rare  
times he seemed positively average-human with his guard down and king-of-the-world   
attitude completely forgotten.  
  
  
Jack was nearly across the bowsprit when he nearly lost his footing and fell. Anamaria forgot   
about the wheel and rushed to accompany him. With one foot on the ship and the other on   
the bowsprit, she gave her outstretched arms to take Will from Jack. He shook his head   
impatiently, but Anamaria took Will swiftly, yet tenderly from his rescuer, allowing Jack to   
cross the rest of the way safely, yet slightly out of breath.  
  
  
"Let me see him," Jack said gruffly as Anamaria laid him out on the deck. Jack inspected   
Will's face and checked his torso for signs of blood. It seemed that the only damage done   
to him was from a heavy blow across the head. "Damn that bastard," he said, gritting his   
teeth. "Take him below deck and put him in a comfortable bed," Jack ordered, harshly.   
Anamaria brushed his belligerence aside and pulled Will into her arms, taking him below   
deck.  
  
  
She set him in her own bed, which was large and comfortable. She set to work to clean and  
bandage Will up, which she did with as much skill as her little experience would let her. After  
a matter of minutes, she felt Jack's presence in the room. He stepped up to her with a small  
smile of comfort on his face.  
  
  
"You did your duty well, love," he said. "Thank you."  
  
  
"You're welcome, captain," she replied, nodding.  
  
  
"When I saw the man at the helm, I thought it was my father," Jack explained. "He must have  
hurt Will and used him to distract me-" He stopped his sentence abruptly as the truth   
dawned on him with such force that it even made the color drain from his face.  
  
  
"What is it, Captain?" Anamaria asked, worried. For a moment, he couldn't talk, but only   
realize that while he had been following Will that whole time, a different ship, the one his   
father was really on, was headed for Port Royal, to slaughter all it's people.  
  
  
"It was a diversion!" Jack groaned, clenching his fists in frustration. "That evil, lying bastard!   
He's on his way to Port Royal to kill everyone; I was warned of this! I thought this was the   
right course because of the old woman's warning, but - blimey, that bloody scalawag!"  
  
  
Anamaria didn't know what Jack was saying, but the mentioning of Port Royal being   
destroyed was enough understanding for her. Jack had lost his cool disposition entirely and  
was nearly trembling with rage. He said not a word as he quickly rushed from the room and  
scrambled up the laddera to the helm. Anamaria followed him in a daze as he roughly jolted  
the wheel around and around until the Black Pearl turned sharply as it would go in the other  
direction. So sharply, in fact, that the wakeful crew staggered to stay on their feet.  
  
  
"We're headed for Port Royal, men!" Jack shouted, desperately trying to keep his voice   
under control. "Gibbs! Wake up the ones that are sleeping, get everyone to the hold and   
bring out the oars, now! We do not rest until we reach the port, got that!?"  
  
  
"Aye-aye, Captain!" the crewmembers, along with Gibbs, shouted back, knowing that Jack,   
with his current tone, meant business.  
  
  
"You, man!" Jack called up to the lookout.  
  
  
"Aye!"  
  
  
"Stay awake at all costs! The instant Port Royal comes into view, you tell me!"  
  
  
"Aye, Captain!"  
  
  
Jack whipped back around to the wheel and saw Anamaria rushing to him.  
  
  
"You're not needed at the oars? Has Gibbs waken everyone?" Jack inquired, briskly.  
  
  
"Aye," she replied.  
  
  
"Then stay with Will," he said, with the first hint of sadness in his voice. "Make sure that at  
least he of the Port Royalists stay alive." Anamaria nodded and turned about, heading back  
down to her cabin.  
  
  
"Whichever forces of the universe there may be," Jack muttered under his breath, "Please,  
don't let me be too late."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Good? Isn't it grand? Isn't it great? Isn't swell? Isn't fine, isn't it…? All   
right, enough Chicago, please review and tell me how this is coming! :D :D :D :D  
  



	5. Chapter Five

The crew was grumpy, and most of them were half asleep at their posts. The pirates who   
were manning the oars were exhausted, and the rowing slowed. Only Jack was wide  
awake at the wheel, squinting into the distance and concentrating on his course. There was  
a morning fog on the horizon, so when Port Royal came into view, everyone froze in shock.  
  
  
Jack's heart sunk as he slowly docked the Black Pearl into the misty waters. The old  
woman's prophecy had come true.  
  
  
"Jack!" Anamaria called, running up from the lower decks. "Jack, what's-" She let her  
sentence suddenly drop as she saw what it was that made everyone so silent. The   
captain showed no emotion at all, and merely gazed among the streets of dead people   
as if they were what greeted him every time he stopped at Port Royal. Anamaria clasped   
his arm in comfort, and he did not protest. Yes, he seemed strangely unemotional, yet   
lifeless at the same time.  
  
  
"How is Will?" Jack asked, softly, after a long time.  
  
  
"He is well. I came up here to tell you that he will be awake soon," she replied. Jack   
stayed where he was for a while, then a grin spread across his face and he laughed a couple   
of times. Anamaria stared at him as if he had gone crazy.  
  
  
"The psychic… She told me that Will would die with everyone else," he explained. "She   
was wrong. But the scene looks just as she described it. She-" he laughed again, "-she told   
me I would choose the wrong course. Even after I was warned, I went the wrong bloody   
way!"  
  
  
"Jack, calm down," Anamaria whispered patiently.  
  
  
"Calm down!?" he echoed with a shout. He lowered his voice and whispered back; "These   
people are dead because of me, and you want me to calm down?"  
  
  
"Jack, please, just… Come see Will," she pleaded with him.  
  
  
"All right, love," he said. "I'll see him."  
  
  
Anamaria led Jack down the laddera and towards her cabin where Will rested. She creaked   
open the wooden door and let the captain walk in, first.  
  
  
"Will, lad!" Jack greeted him, finding the boy awake. "So glad to see you again!"  
  
  
"Jack," Will replied, glancing around the room and feeling the bandage around his head.   
"What happened?"  
  
  
"I found you injured and took you to me own ship," Jack said. "But I could ask you the   
same question."  
  
  
"I'm not quite sure," he answered. "Someone must have come up behind me - I was in the   
shop and I heard somebody. I thought they were looking to buy a sword, but when I turned   
about to welcome them, there was nobody there. And then I heard the voice of an old man  
as someone grabbed me from behind… And then I don't know what happened after that."  
  
  
"But how could he travel so fast…" Jack murmured to himself. "He must have come here,   
then gone to Tortuga, dropped Will off in the middle of the ocean to throw me off and come   
back here again in time to destroy the whole city…"  
  
  
What he was saying was no more than muttering to Will, who was still in the bed, further   
away from Jack and Anamaria who stood side by side just inside the room. Anamaria,   
though, heard every word Jack said.  
  
  
"Should we tell him?" Anamaria hissed to Jack.  
  
  
"Tell me what?" Will asked, confused.  
  
  
"That your back in Port Royal, mate," Jack said, forcing a smile. "You just stay put while I   
go back up and… scout the area."  
  
  
"Scout the area? What are you talking about?" Will inquired, shifting in the bed.  
  
  
"Don't move," Jack ordered, patiently. "You're still not in good health-"  
  
  
"I want to see Elizabeth," Will protested, lightly. "She could be worried about me."  
  
  
"I doubt it," Jack muttered.  
  
  
"How would you know?" Will asked. "I'm fine, let me go. I thank you for saving my life.   
I owe you one! But please, let me go see my wife so I know that everything is okay-"  
  
  
"Everything is not okay!" Jack yelled, suddenly sounding as if he had lost control. "I can't   
explain to you how sorry I am for what has happened! I let something terrible take place,   
and now everyone has paid for i-"  
  
  
"What happened?" Will interrupting dangerously, his voice rising. "Did you let harm come   
to Elizabeth!?"  
  
  
"I did!" Jack answered, dreadfully. "I did, and you may never forgive me."  
  
  
"What did you do to her!? I trusted you, Jack! Why?" Will cried in horror.  
  
  
"It wasn't Jack's fault," Anamaria shot. "Somebody tricked him to throw him off!"  
  
  
"Anamaria-" Jack started to cut in, but she raised her voice in protest.  
  
  
"You should have seen him trying to get here in time, he tried-"  
  
  
"Anamaria-"  
  
  
"He kept the whole crew up all night! He is loyal and kind and don't you dare accuse him   
of hurting anyone you love! He tried his hardest to sail here before Port Royal was destr-"  
  
  
"That's enough!" Jack growled towards Anamaria. She had suddenly seemed very close   
to tears at the climax of her tirade. No doubt, Will already had his face in his hands.  
  
  
"Will, please stay strong," Jack said, quickly. "I know you're not following everything, and   
that it's hard for you-"  
  
  
Will suddenly bounded out of the bed and leapt at Jack so that he was pinned forcefully   
against the wall. Jack gazed calmly into Will's bloodshot eyes, and the boy just gritted his   
teeth and seemed ready to kill the pirate at any moment. There was tension in the air as   
nobody moved a muscle, Will's knuckles were white with fists clenching Jack's shirt so that   
he couldn't move even after he had been shoved into the wall.  
  
  
"Do you have any idea…" Will trailed off, his voice shaken. "Do you understand- What   
are you thinking- Will you - will you tell me right now what has happened to them, Jack!"   
he finally uttered, shoving the captain as if he could go through the wall.  
  
  
"I can't!" he gasped back, nearly having to fight for air. "Will, you have every right to kill me   
if you must, I understand that! But I can't tell you… I know what's happened to them - I   
knew before I even saw them! Don't go up there, lad, kill me if you must, just don't look   
at what's become of your home! Just know that you will never see your poor, lovely wife   
again… and I'm sorry… Will, if only you knew how sorry I am for everything…" He just   
looked sorrowfully at the boy, whose breath came shortly as if he had been running.   
  
  
All of a sudden, Will slammed his fist into the wall next to Jack's head so hard, that it   
cracked, then he unexpectedly broke down completely, finally letting go of Jack and   
turning against the wall for support. He slid to the ground with his back against the wall,   
shedding tears silently as he stared straight ahead, focused on nothing.  
  
  
Jack said not a word, but attempted to leave the room, knowing that Will was upset by   
his presence while he was in this state.  
  
  
"My friend, do not go," Will whispered, not turning his head to him.  
  
  
The pirate captain stopped in his tracks and after a while of debating whether he should,   
sat softly down beside Will. Not a word was spoken between them for the longest time,   
during which Anamaria slipped silently from the room. Even after all that had happened,   
Will still forgave Jack, and that was when Jack realized that the boy would stay by his side   
until the end.  
  
  
"You truly are your father's son," Jack muttered softly.  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Um. Yeah. Tell me how you thought of that! Not much happened, I know, my   
chapters are short, but… yeah. I dunno about that one, I need some feedback! Thank   
ya! :D  
  



	6. Chapter Six

* * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
  
..........Twenty-seven years, two months and four days earlier..........   
  
  
Jack Sparrow was thirteen years old, and a strong, fearless boy. Two years earlier, he  
had docked the Black Pearl alone at a Guantanamo port and picked up a few street boys  
to help him out with sailing his ship. He had been confused about his past, and wondered  
why he couldn't remember most of it, and why he hadn't sailed under an adult captain.  
Now, the same Guantanamo street boys were still under his command on the Black Pearl,  
and although they were young, they had learned much about the sea and piracy.  
  
  
All of the boys had been pickpockets and thieves before Jack hired them, and had already   
been skilled in the ways of cunningly disappearing under the eyes of many people, taking   
short cuts to escape, and stealing money and food right under a person's nose. They had   
taught Jack their secrets in return for him teaching them how to sail, and although they were   
boys, they were unstoppable pirates all the same.  
  
  
Jack was at the helm of his ship, proud of his inexorable, youthful crew. He could hardly be   
troubled by the fact that he couldn't remember much of his life before the age of eleven in the   
comfort of bright daylight on a warm sea, but at night, his past still haunted him in his   
nightmares.  
  
  
He often dreamt of an immortal evil, and he normally woke up confused and frightened,   
remembering for brief periods of time a man so terrible that it sent shivers up his spine. Jack   
had no idea where he had thought up such a man, for he was certain that he had never met   
him before, but in a corner of his mind, he knew he had seen the villain somewhere before.  
  
  
One night, he was dozing off to sleep peacefully in his cabin, when he heard a soft voice.  
  
  
"Jack…" it whispered, as if carried on a breeze. The boy stirred and pretended to sleep, but   
he was more alert than ever. When the voice said nothing after a long time, he decided it was   
of his imagination, but he couldn't help feeling a presence about him that he couldn't explain.  
  
  
Someone was in the room with him.  
  
  
"Jack," it said again, more distinctly this time. It was not the voice of a human, Jack was   
certain of that. The boy felt a rush of cold air, and he could take it no longer, whipping his   
pistol out from under his pillow, and in a flash he was pointing it toward the direction of the   
voice, sitting up in bed. There was nobody.  
  
  
"I know you're here!" Jack growled, fiercely, fingering his gun and clicking the barrel into   
place. "Show yourself, I'm not afraid!" But he was terrified. He knew that the being that   
was in the room, was the same character who haunted his nightmares so often.  
  
  
"You don't… remember me… Jack?" the voice asked icily. It was all around him now,   
echoing off the walls. Jack spun around and searched the small cabin frantically. His hand   
and voice were steady.  
  
  
"Who are you?" Jack demanded, pointing his pistol at the tiniest creak of the wood around   
him. The voice laughed softly, which made him almost lose his composure.  
  
  
"Put the gun down," the voice said. "It cannot do me harm. Not after what you did to me,   
Jack. Or should I say, did FOR me."  
  
  
"Who are you?" Jack repeated.  
  
  
Suddenly, the voice was behind Jack. "You don't know," it confirmed with a sneer.   
"Maybe if I show myself, it would refresh your memory."  
  
  
Jack started and turned around to come face to face with the intruder. He froze and gaped   
as the figure gazed at him spitefully. The figure was tall and ghostly pale, with a sickly green-  
yellow look about it. His long, black hair hung around his face wildly, and his yellow eyes   
had deep, black circles around them. His pupils were red, and his face was so white, Jack   
thought he could almost see through it. His lips were pale brown, and when he grinned, his   
teeth were yellow and black, his gums white and pasty.  
  
  
"What are you?" Jack whispered breathlessly, unable to bolt for the door as he had   
completely frozen. The man raised a nearly bone-thin hand, with long, jutting and dirty   
fingernails.  
  
  
"It'll all come back to you right now," he said with his chilling voice, touching the boy softly   
on his face. His hand was cold as ice, and the man might as well have hit Jack with all his   
might. The boy couldn't breathe as memories flashed into his brain so fast that they were all   
a blur. The Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow, a boy, a man, a sound, a crack, a laugh, lightning,   
thunder, blood, flailing, beating, a cry, a scream, a heartbeat, blood, a boy, a man, a grin,   
evil, blood, evil, blood, Jack Sparrow, night, sea, crashing, Jack-  
  
  
"You are Jack Sparrow!" Jack the younger shouted in horror, trying to pull away from the   
thing that was once his living father. The figure laughed with glee and caressed the boy   
mockingly, sliding his hand up Jack's neck and digging his sharp fingernails into his hair.   
The child could smell the rancid odor of the creature that seemed to be rotting away on the   
spot.  
  
  
"I must go now," the man said, content at the petrified terror the boy was showing him. "I   
will come back for you, my boy, and I will send you into hell!" He cackled and an instant   
later, he was gone.  
  
  
Jack was alone. And he would never see his father again for twenty-seven years.  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
  
Will was sleeping. Jack had made sure he was safe and had locked Anamaria's cabin door   
behind him. He would not let Will die, no matter what. But he had spent nearly an hour with   
his friend, and still he needed to find out if his father was still in Port Royal, waiting for him as   
the old woman had said.  
  
  
Jack walked steadily down a plank to the banks of the silent port. Fog swirled around the   
bodies, and he carefully stepped around them, trekking further and further into the city. He   
made sure not to look down at the corpses directly, but instead trust his peripheral vision to   
be able to step around them so that he didn't have to see their haunting faces. He didn't   
want to see anybody he knew.  
  
  
"Where are you, rogue," Jack muttered to himself. The dense fog didn't carry his voice, yet   
he felt he had disturbed the peace of the noiseless place.  
  
  
"I'm right here," the evil thing responded, voice echoing even among the fog. Jack gritted his   
teeth and turned calmly around to see the villain who had not materialized for him in decades,   
yet it seemed as if he had been with the pirate captain the whole time. The man grinned his   
awful grin and spread his arms. "Welcome home, Jack," he whispered. "I told you I'd be   
here."  
  
  
"Aye," Jack replied. "But you also said you'd send me into hell. It seems you're the only   
one here who's battled that place, you pathetic fiend."  
  
  
Instead of the man growing angry like most did when insulted, he grinned again and stepped   
calmly up to Jack. The pirate stood straight and daring, reminding himself that he was not a   
boy anymore. He glared straight into the yellow eyes of the creature.  
  
  
"Remember your place, boy," the thing said, disappearing swiftly and taking Jack from   
behind, grabbing him by the neck and swinging him around so that Jack was inches away   
from the older man's inhuman face. Jack stumbled when forced about, but was held up by  
one strong, icy hand.  
  
  
"You don't scare me anymore," Jack growled to the man, but it was an obvious lie, which his   
eyes gave away.  
  
  
"I could kill you now," the villain said calmly, squeezing his hand tighter around Jack's neck   
so that his breath came out in gasps.  
  
  
"If you were going to, you would have already," Jack snarled, tearing at the stony hand.  
  
  
The creature laughed and threw Jack harshly to the ground on his back. Before he could   
spring up, Jack Senior shoved his foot into his chest, pinning him to the earth.  
  
  
"Clever boy!" it cackled. "You're right, you know. I am not going to kill you yet. See, I   
have something to tell you that you might be interested in knowing."  
  
  
"And what would that be?" Jack said almost fearfully, struggling to get out from under his   
father's boot, knowing that his efforts were useless.  
  
  
"Listen up," the evil thing said seriously. "I knew that you were going to follow the Quietus,   
even though you have a weakness when it comes to helping your friends. Although I wonder   
why you came to Port Royal when you realized that it was not me on that ship, but your   
foolish little comrade. You wouldn't happen to remember, in the deepest corner of your   
mind, what happened last time… But, no… You wouldn't remember… For you, it never   
happened…"  
  
  
By now, Jack was confused. "I happened to come across a source which informed me of   
what was to occur," he shot. "What do you mean by that for me, something never   
happened?"  
  
  
"Ah, so you bumped into a psychic, you lucky devil," it spat in response. "No problem.   
You still ended up here. Your future didn't change, you understand…"  
  
  
"How did you know it was a psychic?" Jack demanded, finally giving up his struggling and   
glaring up at the man.  
  
  
"Let me tell you something, boy. I've come to discover that whenever a psychic - and only   
a real psychic - sees the future, they're not really fortelling what is to come, but what has   
already happened and is to be repeated," the thing replied.  
  
  
"But I hadn't chased you here before!" Jack protested. "This is the first and only time it's   
ever-"  
  
  
"Are you sure of that?" the creature interrupted nastily, digging his boot harder into Jack to   
hopefully get a cry out of him, but the pirate did nothing of the sort. "Let me show you   
something," it hissed.  
  
  
Jack's father dug into his jacket and revealed-  
  
  
"A lead pencil?" Jack laughed, trying to sound fearless but only sending shooting pain   
through his straining lungs. "You're mad."  
  
  
"This is not a pencil, boy," the other shot, laughing louder with such evil that it shut the   
younger up. "I call it Kismet. Do you know what kismet is, child?"  
  
  
"No," Jack replied.  
  
  
"It is fate. Destiny. This object, which I have come across by no ordinary means, can   
change that, can send you back in time to repeat an event so that it can be mended of   
mistakes. With this, I am invincible."  
  
  
"So you're saying - that Port Royal has already been destroyed - and you've just gone   
back in time and have recently destroyed it again!" Jack uttered. "And the old psychic   
only recited to me what has happened? But why did you repeat this?"  
  
  
"That, I cannot tell you," the thing hissed. "But that doesn't matter, for we have caught up   
to the time before, and now there is no way I can be stopped. My mistakes are fixed, and   
now, young Sparrow... you will die."  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Pineapple1, hope this clears stuff up for   
you, and Yakkorat; thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! Heather, Abigail,   
JeanieBeanie33, Marie the Black Rose, Should be Studying, Notallmachine, Jack Sparrow's  
Black Pearl, PED-Sarah, TPP, SOS1, pot clover, atticap, Bulletproof Dork, Sihaya,   
Martian Aries, melia, Sinopa, Greywolf Lupous, Chaa and Xaa - thank you all for   
reviewing! Much appreciated! :D :D :D :D  
  



	7. Chapter Seven

"…and now, young Sparrow, you will die."  
  
  
"Bad plan, mate," Jack growled, unsheathing his sword and plunging it swiftly into the older   
man's gut. The younger pirate held tightly to the hilt, unmoving, waiting for the older to fall   
down dead. The older, instead, grabbed Jack's hand and helped it to push the sword further   
into his stomach.  
  
  
"Ah, yes," the older whispered, pulling the sword deeper into him so that it strained at his   
back and with a tearing sound, puncturing it clearly through. Jack gave a few yanks at the   
sword, but his father resisted him, still gripping his hand tightly.  
  
  
"Let me go," Jack demanded frightfully. The elder did so, and Jack took his hand from the   
hilt as if it had burned him. The elder jabbed his foot into Jack again, pinning him with all his   
weight this time. The younger was gasping for breath just from this.  
  
  
"Human weapons cannot destroy me," the old man said, grinning wickedly. He slid the   
sword from his body and held it up for Jack to see. The sword was clean, but the man   
shed nearly black blood. It spilled in gushes on the younger, who gagged and squirmed   
under the man's foot. The elder just stared lazily at the sword for a moment, and glanced   
calmly down at Jack, who was nearly panicking.  
  
  
"If you are to be killing me - do it now!" Jack gasped.  
  
  
"Very well," the elder replied, using Jack's sword to stab him. The younger shouted in pain   
as the blade sliced smoothly into his shoulder. His bright and living blood flowed and swirled   
around the dark blood of his father's. He gritted his teeth and shouted again. "Enough with   
your yelling, lad; I've got a better plan. You want me to kill you quickly, but I'm not going   
to give you that satisfaction. I am going to kill you as slowly as you will allow - and you   
always were a stubborn survivor, weren't you?"  
  
  
Jack writhed, but managed to keep from screaming again. The old man took his foot from   
Jack's chest and reached down, grabbing him up by the collar and nearly whip lashing him   
into his face.  
  
  
"Listen carefully," the father said, so close that Jack could feel the awful breath on him; the   
breath of something that was not taking any air, yet breathing all the same. "I want to see   
you suffer. Do me this favor, and your death may come a bit quicker."  
  
  
"I'll have to turn you down on that offer," Jack spat, lunging with the reflexes of a cobra for   
the hand of his father's which held the Kismet. The man, who could have easily taken it   
back from Jack, stared almost with awe at the young man who clutched the black pencil-  
looking contraption.  
  
  
As he touched the Kismet, he felt a surge of electricity flow through his body, and he leaped   
back out of the elder's clutches.  
  
  
"Now how do you suppose you'll use that?" the old man laughed, though his voice had an   
uneasy edge. "Give that back to me."  
  
  
"No," Jack replied fiercely, clasping the thing tightly. Every time his heart beat, the device   
sent a fiery, pulsing shock through his body, making him shudder and feel dizzy. He   
stumbled about, but held the Kismet threateningly with a death grip.  
  
  
"You're a fool," the old man continued. "Your body will not be able to stand the power of   
that."  
  
  
"How to work it…" Jack said, keeping his voice mockingly calm, pretending to ignore his   
father.  
  
  
"Give it to me, I'm warning you!" the elder hissed.  
  
  
"Perhaps some sort of marking…" Jack trailed off, and with the Kismet, drew an X on his   
hand. The crumbling lead remained on his open palm for an instant before seeming to be   
sucked into his skin like a sponge. He screamed in pain as the X came back with one of the   
harsh jolts of electricity, emblazoning the mark in his hand. "Obviously not," he said, his   
voice shaking and giving away the doubt he felt.  
  
  
"Give it back!" the old man cried manically, his eyeballs seeming to nearly pop out of his   
head. Strangely enough, and to Jack's confusion, the elder man did not budge from his spot,   
but Jack was too nervous to busy himself with this oddity.  
  
  
"Or maybe you have to direct it with words," Jack suggested, thoughtfully. "I would like to   
go back… five days," he said. Nothing happened.  
  
  
All of a sudden, a more forceful shock stirred a memory of Jack's; so strong, that he felt   
that he was going to cry from the sheer simplicity of it compared to what he was facing now.   
He saw himself, sailing the Black Pearl with his compass out. The sun was warm on his   
back, the sea was foamy and blue, and the whole world belonged to him. He was carefree   
and happy; it seemed like so long ago, but it was indeed less than a week before. He   
wanted out of this nightmare. He wanted away from this horror, from this dark, painful   
experience. He wanted away from his father. He wanted to live and swordfight, and he   
didn't want anybody to be sad, lonely, terrified. He didn't want anybody in Port Royal   
dead, not even that obnoxious little Gillette.  
  
  
With a pang of force, the shock ran through Jack again, harder than ever before. It beat   
itself into him, and soon lost the rhythm of his heart and just pulsed, faster and faster,   
harder and harder. The memory grew stronger, but the stronger it became, the more pain   
he felt.  
  
  
"You'll never live to go back!" the old man shouted all the while. Jack could hardly hear   
him over the near-deafening clang of the jolts that grew worse and faster until the younger   
felt as if he were being torn in two.  
  
  
"I'm leaving now!" Jack shouted before letting out a bark of agony. He couldn't stop   
yelling as everything climaxed to a terrible limit Jack could barely stand. One more   
jolt, one more, he'd be done for, just one more, he would go mad if it didn't stop, he   
would go mad or he would die.  
  
  
As he left that time, the time of destruction and death, he knew he would do neither.   
For he was Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
  
  
A/N: Good? Bad? Not editted. Must sleep.  



	8. Chapter Eight

Jack felt himself falling as blurry, incoherent images flashed past him. He felt the rumbling   
ground below him, but he fell all the same. He couldn't see his father anymore, or his   
surroundings. The images engulfed him, and everything was completely silent; or perhaps it   
was so loud, it only seemed to be silent. Either way, he could hear nothing, not even his   
own breathing.  
  
  
In a flash, he was thrown solidly to the deck of a ship. The sun hurt his eyes, and it took   
him a few seconds of blinking to realize that he was on the Black Pearl, his crew staring at   
him as if he were an apparition. All of a sudden, the crew broke from their stupor; many of   
them cried out in alarm; Anamaria rushed to Jack and began to shout words of panic.  
  
  
"Captain! You're injured! But how!? Just a moment before you were standing at the helm!   
You're different! You're dying!" she cried. She shook Jack when he did nothing but stare   
at her, still confused and awed that the Kismet actually worked.  
  
  
"I'm all right," Jack said, pushing Anamaria's hands away. "Calm down!"  
  
  
"Nonsense! Are you mad? Did you not just see what the whole crew saw? Look down at   
yourself! You're bleeding!" she continued.  
  
  
"Listen!" Jack called over Anamaria's horror-stricken voice. "Most of it isn't mine! Can't   
you see?"  
  
  
"What's happened to you?" she demanded.  
  
  
"If you calm down, I'll tell you," Jack said. Anamaria realized she had been clasping Jack's   
shirt, and she released him, drawing back and staring disbelievingly at him. Jack sighed and   
held up the Kismet for her to see. "This," he said, "is Kismet."  
  
  
"You're mad," Anamaria whispered.  
  
  
"Listen!" Jack protested. "I used this to go back in time! I came from a week from now.   
You see how I look? I was fighting with the fiend who is to destroy Port Royal! I stole   
Kismet from him, and went back to make things right again!"  
  
  
"I don't understand," Anamaria replied, faintly.  
  
  
"We need to turn this ship around," Jack said, standing up and drawing his compass from   
his pocket. "You must at least know that if we don't sail to Port Royal, everyone will die."  
  
  
"Who; us?" Anamaria asked, trying to get some answers out of Jack, following him as he   
rushed to the helm.  
  
  
"The Port Royalists!" Jack swung the wheel about and shouted to the crew; "Everyone to   
their posts! Any man caught doing nothing will be thrown overboard!" Behind him, the   
flabbergasted crew snapped back to attention and busied themselves with their duties.   
Anamaria stayed next to Jack. "What are you doing, love? Get to work," Jack said. With   
a sudden change of mind as Anamaria was obeying his order, he called to her; "Where were   
we headed before I came about?"  
  
  
"Tortuga," she answered, almost disbelieving.  
  
  
Immediately after she said this, Jack felt a sudden jolt that nearly knocked him senseless.   
His head spun as a scene formed around him. The Black Pearl melted away like a mirage,   
and what took the place of it was a familiar dirt street, littered with broken bottles, garbage,   
waste. Jack instantly knew that this wasn't real; it looked like a dream, but he couldn't wake   
from it; he hadn't even fallen asleep! One minute he was on the Black Pearl - which had   
been real and solid - and with a sharp jerk as if he'd been pushed from behind by an   
ethereal force, he was here. On the street of Tortuga where he would meet the psychic   
woman.  
  
  
"What the bloody deuce," Jack muttered under his breath; or tried to mutter. No sound   
came out of his mouth. He stood in this street for a few minutes before he saw something   
that made him start to attention. It was himself! He saw the all-too familiar swaggering figure,   
dark eyes alight and adventurous, squinting; he had recently consumed a bit of rum and was   
strutting around as if he owned the whole town. His hat was cocked jauntily - or drunkenly -   
to one side, and Jack noticed that his past self was scouting around for a lovely lady he might   
have the fortune to spend the night with.  
  
  
Jack watched in awe as the past him brushed right by. He obviously couldn't see his future   
self standing there, turning about so he could see where he was headed, following him to the   
end of the alley, where the woman sat in rags.  
  
  
"Help an old woman out," the lady croaked. Jack ignored her and began to walk past her   
without a second thought. "A shilling for a fortune-telling, Captain Jack Sparrow." Past   
Jack stopped in his tracks and grinned, the old lady glancing at his gold teeth, hoping he was   
rich.  
  
  
"That should be interesting," he decided, giving the hag a shilling. He looked past his cloudy   
drunken gaze to think about the woman, and out of pity, tipped her three more.  
  
  
"You're a good man; good man," the lady grumbled, coughing harshly into her arm.  
  
  
Jack felt another jerk and he swung around, the scene melting as the Black Pearl had.   
Before it completely vanished, his heart froze as he caught a glimpse of the proverbial fiend;   
the pale, wrinkled non-living figure of his father. The image of Tortuga spun, but his father   
was clear as ever. The man spread his lips widely into a sour smile, stared right into Jack's   
eyes and winked. The last thing Jack heard before the Black Pearl appeared again, was a   
terrible cackle, which rung in his ears even after his ship firmly materialized around him.  
  
  
"Captain! Captain!" Anamaria was shrieking above him; Jack had obviously collapsed and   
was staring up at the lady, recovering from his odd vision.  
  
  
"What is it?" Jack cried, pulling himself to his feet. His first mate was apparently terrified,   
white and rigid, eyes large and frightened.  
  
  
"You're daft, you're losing it, Jack!" Anamaria said. "One minute you're talking to me like   
normal, the next you're on the deck, jabbering things nobody can understand; you've scared   
us! You're mad!"  
  
  
Jack looked around at his crew, who were all standing silently, staring at him.  
  
  
"Back to your posts!" Jack ordered, waving his crew away. Nobody complied. "I said get   
back to your posts, you stolid curs!"  
  
  
"Jack, listen," Anamaria whispered. "We're going to take our original route and head to   
Tortuga. Until you're back to normal, you're relieved of your authority as captain."  
  
  
"You can't do that!" Jack cried. "There's nothing wrong with me, you have to understand-"  
  
  
"I understand completely," Anamaria said, sadly. She turned to the crew. "Lock him in   
his cabin," she instructed, taking the helm.  
  
  
"Anamaria! There's nothing wrong with me! If we don't go to Port Royal, hundreds of   
innocent people will die!" Jack shouted as men held him with difficulty as he struggled in   
their grasp. "You're making the biggest bloody mistake of your life! Don't do this!" He   
thrashed violently, but he couldn't free himself from the four crew members who were   
pulling him to his cabin. "We have to sail to Port Royal! Anamaria! Please, listen!   
You're letting people die! Anamaria!"  
  
  
She didn't take her eyes off the sea as Jack was thrown into his quarters. He hit the   
floor harshly, but sprang to his feet, charging at the door in time for it to slam in his face.   
He heard the crew sliding a bar into place while some of them held the door so Jack   
couldn't free himself. He pounded on it and continued to shout until the men left,   
ordered by Anamaria to get back to their duties.  
  
  
Jack gave a last cry of rage and fell silent, striking the door once more before sliding   
to his knees in despair. He didn't blame his first mate for doing this; he realized he   
had acted inanely and that she only wanted what was best for him and the crew.   
She would not listen to him, that was apparent. There was nothign he could do.  
  
  
"And so, Port Royal," Jack murmured to himself, shifting so that his back was against   
the only exit as he stared at the floor, "you fall to the indomitable dastard again."  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: Abigail, I wasn't going to even think about continuing this story after I wrote the last   
chapter, but you have triggered me to continue writing this again. I don't know when I'll   
continue after this chapter, because I decided I was done with fan fiction a while ago, but   
I'll at least give you this next chapter. Hope you like it, 'twas written just for you!  
  
  
One week later…  
  
  
Jack woke up to the sound of the heavy bar sliding out of place from in front of his cabin   
door. When Anamaria entered, Jack took one glance at the look on her face and smirked   
in spite of himself.  
  
  
"We're in Tortuga, aye?" Jack asked, shifting his position atop his bare cot and squinting   
through the shade of his hat, trying to adjust his eyes to the sunlight he hadn't seen in days   
that poured through the door. For a week he had been locked up, refusing to accept that he   
was "insane" and telling them truthfully that the instant he was let out, he would fight them to   
the death to take the wheel and keep it until they reached Port Royal.  
  
  
"Aye," Anamaria answered at long last, looking grim.  
  
  
"How did you find out about Port Royal?" he asked.  
  
  
"So you know?" she inquired in return.  
  
  
"This is the first time you've opened the door, captain." He said 'captain' nearly   
sarcastically. "Other than that, I notice you haven't been listening to me; otherwise you   
would know that I've been warning you of what would happen since last week. Now you   
feel foolish. Perhaps I'm not insane, after all, aye?"  
  
  
"Don't mock me," she said dangerously.  
  
  
"I have every right to, love," Jack replied lightly, yet he implied severity. "You turned my   
crew against me only to have hundreds of people killed who could have been saved if not   
for you." This was the first time, he realized, that he had ever accused this woman of   
wrongdoing; also the first time he'd ever truly enjoyed her affliction. He immediately regretted   
his words.  
  
  
"Jack, they're all dead," Anamaria stated. She added quickly; "I thought you were mad!   
Don't you understand? I didn't know."  
  
  
"You should have listened to me," he responded.  
  
  
"I know," she muttered. "I'm sorry."  
  
  
"Worse has happened to me. What about Port Royal?" Jack inquired.  
  
  
"What, am I sorry for it? For the people? Somebody massacred them and the whole thing   
could be blamed on me because I could have let you stop it but instead I went along to   
Tortuga, and you're asking if I'm sorry? I'm sorry I'm so stupid and didn't trust my captain!   
I'm sorry for locking you up for days and shoving food under your door and keeping you   
captive on your own ship! In your own cabin! If I had just done what you said, if I had   
listened to you, believed you for one moment, everything wouldn't have happened this way,"   
she replied bitterly.  
  
  
"It still might have," Jack said, suddenly. "What if… What if you couldn't have done   
anything differently? If it was already planned out for you that way?"  
  
  
"I'm finding it hard to follow," she said truthfully. "But you're obviously not insane. Go on."  
  
  
"I came back in time by way of a silly contraption that I thought could change the past, but   
what if it can't? What if the path you take the first time is the only chance you get, and no   
matter how many times you try to go back and fix it, it will always end up the same   
because your past has already been set for you, and you can't change it no matter what   
you do?" Jack asked, more to himself.  
  
  
"Are you saying that the people of Port Royal were meant to die?" she said.  
  
  
"Maybe," he mumbled.  
  
  
"Jack?"  
  
  
"Aye?"  
  
  
She rummaged into her pocket and took out the Kismet, saying; "I think you should try   
again."  
  
  
Jack seized it from her quickly, and she looked shocked. "It's evil," he said. "I don't want   
you getting hurt."  
  
  
"I picked it up after that scuffle last week," Anamaria informed him, eyeing the hand that held   
the pencil-looking object.  
  
  
"Evidently I dropped it," Jack replied, turning the Kismet with his fingers to inspect it. "I   
agree with you, though. I should make at least one more attempt before I accept the fate of   
Port Royal."  
  
  
"Attempt?" Anamaria repeated with fire in her eyes. "Captain, you will not make attempts.   
You will save the town or you will not. If you choose to go back, you are choosing to let the   
Port Royalists live. You do not give up, and you never will. And if I know you, you will not   
accept the fate of Port Royal. Forget what you've concluded, about how going back in   
time won't change the future. Time is no match for Jack Sparrow."  
  
  
He gave a silly grin and tilted his hat at a jaunty angle. "Well, at least you have your facts   
straight about me, love!"  
  
  
"You're an ass," Anamaria snorted. "But you know how to make it work?"  
  
  
"I think so," Jack said. "Last time, I had to think about the time and place I wanted to be…"   
He instantly became quiet and seemed in deep thought for about five minutes, before giving a   
heavy sigh and saying; "Nothing's happening."  
  
  
"Is there anything else you did? Think," Anamaria encouraged him.  
  
  
"It's hard to remember," he said. "I was in a pretty bad position and I wasn't really thinking   
about it..."  
  
  
"Quit rambling and just think," Anamaria snapped.  
  
  
"All right, all right; easy," Jack muttered, standing up and beginning to pace in concentration.   
He raised a finger, shook his head, put it down, looked at the Kismet and muttered under his   
breath.  
  
  
"Okay, maybe I spoke too soon when I decided you weren't insane," Anamaria said,   
following Jack's movements with her eyes.  
  
  
"I got it," he said, suddenly. He raised the Kismet as if to write and added; "If I scream,   
don't be surprised." With that said, Jack drew an X into his hand, held his breath, and   
waited for it to do something.  
  
  
"Are you going to scream yet?" Anamaria asked, sarcastically.  
  
  
"It's not working," Jack uttered. "There's something wrong, something different…"   
And then it hit him. "It's not working because it WON'T work," he said, dreadfully.   
"Before, I had to take it from my father - don't ask - and when I did, it began to pulse   
throughout my whole body, like an inferno. It doesn't have that power now, it's lifeless."  
  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
  
"I don't know," he said in frustration. "Probably because it's not mine."  
  
  
"That's right," a familiar voice said from behind Anamaria, causing her to whip around   
and Jack to freeze. "It's mine."  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter Ten

Jack Sparrow Senior gave a steely grin before catching Anamaria by the throat so quickly   
that she didn't have time to even think about what was happening. His hand merely shot out   
as a blur and there he stood, grasping the lady pirate as she clutched at his fingers and gasped   
for air.  
  
  
"Don't!" Jack cried, still frozen to the bed, watching in horror. "It's me you want! Let her   
go and kill me! Kill me, damn you to bloody hell, I don't care anymore!"  
  
  
"Silence, you fool," the old man whispered, not loosening his grasp. "You should have figured  
long ago that it is not killing you that I enjoy most, but it is watching you suffer."  
  
  
"You've been playing with me, this whole time," Jack realized in shock. "You sick bastard,  
why!"  
  
  
"You killed me," he replied, grinning even wider. "Now you must pay."  
  
  
"What makes you think I care at all for her?" Jack asked, fingers stiff and clutching the cot on  
either side of him, trying to keep his voice steady. "She is but a Tortuga wench, and is of no  
value to me."  
  
  
"Then I could gut her open, for all you care," said the father, swinging out his sword and   
holding it up to Anamaria's chest. Her eyes widened as she gave a rasping scream,   
struggling madly in the old man's stone grip.   
  
  
Jack did not reply.   
  
  
In a moment of what seemed like rage, Jack Senior took a sharp intake of breath, bared his  
teeth, and shoved his sword into the pit of Anamaria's stomach.  
  
  
"No!" Jack shrieked, leaping off the bed as she gave a sharp cry, blooding flooding over her  
garments and pooling on the ground in currents. He ran to her, and her eyes! Her eyes were  
open and gave away such fear, and loathing! And it was not for the old man alone, Jack   
knew it as he stared into her clearly readable orbs. He had not been brave enough to help  
her earlier and now she had to die. She was accusing him of cowardice and her own death,   
and that stopped Jack in his tracks.   
  
  
Jack's father withdrew his sword and plunged it swiftly into Anamaria's neck and down her   
throat, shattering every bone from there to her lungs. She was dead an instant later; her body  
slumped to the ground, surrounded by her gore. Her eyes forever continued their last gaze,   
glassy and unseeing.  
  
  
Jack found it hard to breathe, mouth agape and body unmoving. "No, no, Anamaria…" he   
started, unable to turn away from her. His thoughts were brutally interrupted by a chilling   
laugh that shattered his composure almost completely as his guard was already down. He   
could do nothing but numbly fall back to the cot for support.  
  
  
"You lied to me, boy," his father said icily, smiling wickedly, mockingly petting Anamaria's   
blood-matted hair. "I believe you fancied her."  
  
  
"I believe," Jack whispered, swallowing, "I did."  
  
  
"Ah, Jack, you are not giving up on me so easily," the old man said in good humor. "You   
pathetic little failure. You now give in to me once your heart is broken, without a fight?"  
  
  
"There's no fight left in me," he muttered in reply. "I cannot stop you from anything! Not   
from destroying Port Royal, not from killing Will and Elizabeth, not from murdering Anamaria  
right in front of me, and I-…" He trailed off. "I realize now, that you always had the upper  
hand. What are you to be able to do this? You kill everyone knowing that you cannot be   
stopped."  
  
  
"Looks like I hit my mark, eh?" Jack Senior retorted with a shout of laughter. "It took me a   
while to figure out what would trigger you to become as you are now, but I never thought it   
would be so easy!" He nearly skipped with delight to where Jack sat, grabbing him by the   
head and forcing him to stare into the old man's cold eyes. With his peripheral sight, Jack   
noticed in the corner of his eye, the Kismet, which glowed with a dark aura about it. The  
father didn't seem to notice, but the occurrence was nothing more than an interference that   
Jack could try to focus on instead of his father's eyes. Anything but his eyes. Or   
Anamaria's.  
  
  
"You bore me," Jack's father said, with a frown. "You suffer greatly, but it gets old so   
quickly. You no longer threaten me with your idle rambling. You wish to die." He pulled   
out his blood-stained sword and raised it skillfully over his head, ready to thrust it deeply   
into his son's torso, to stab with it over and over again and watch him finally die, mutilating   
him, along with everyone else. "No more lingering, my boy. I'll see you in hell."  
  
  
Jack Senior struck, but in an instant so quick that not even he could at first register, his sword   
was interfered with a clang of metal, by another blade.  
  
  
"Not today," Jack growled, sword poised and eyes aglow with an immediately fresh fire that   
the old man knew not from where it had come. The elder instantly regained his poise and   
snarled, pulling back for another try at killing his son, but was met with his sword, yet again.   
"You're going to have to try harder than that," Jack growled, leaping from the cot and   
standing correctly, fearlessly.  
  
  
"I'm only just beginning," Jack Senior said, smirking. He lunged toward the younger, and   
each time he went in for the kill, Jack parried his blows. "Stop playing now, you're wasting  
your time!" the old man said as he struck again and again. "You will tire and I will not."  
  
  
They moved around the floor liquidly, both remarkably skilled and equally reflexive; an obvious  
family trait. Jack suddenly hesitated in one thrust, letting his father's blade nearly slash him,   
moving out of the way in the nick of time so that it barely grazed his shirt. The risk was a   
good one taken, as he then had time to slide sideways while his father was extending the   
sword and shove his own into the old man's side.   
  
  
Without a second thought, Jack bent down and snatched up the Kismet, which he had   
positioned right under his feet. The original jolt of electricity passed through his body as he   
drew back, away from his father. The pulsing flame was harsh, but relieving all the same.   
It was going to work.  
  
  
"Damn," the old man whispered in rage, throwing Jack's sword to the ground with a   
clatter. "You already know that if you hold it, I cannot do a thing, presently. But you   
understand, if you go back, by Satan, I will hunt you out again. And I will end this then.   
And you will all be dead!"  
  
  
"This time, I won't screw up," Jack muttered fiercely, gritting his teeth in pain.  
  
  
"You won't screw up; I will kill you before that happens!" his father cackled. "You   
hear me! You'll be dead! I shall kill you! And kill you until you are nothing but a   
soggy pile of blood and gore!"  
  
  
But his threats were not heard as Jack felt the pulse growing quicker, his thoughts   
pouring from his brain, and he could visualize every second of the moving scene around   
him that showed a picture of the Black Pearl on a calm sea. Just like before, he could   
not restrain a cry as the shocks whisked him away once more into the swirling reality of  
his memories.  
  
  
  
A/N: Again, thank you Abigail for inspiring me to write this chapter! There will be more. 


End file.
